Grieve
by Adahy
Summary: Darien deals with a loss


Title

Title: Grieve (1/1)

Author: Adahy

Email: Adahy@Softhome.net

Status: complete

Category: Drama 

Season Spoilers: First Season

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Deals with loss.

Disclaimer: This fic is written using the characters from Scifi's new take on the Invisible Man. I don't own them, and have no money to pay the legal bills if those who do decide to sue me. 

Ten thousand thanks-you's to Steph, Blade, and Liz_Z, who beta'd this story, making it _much_ better than it was. 

***

Darien Fawkes could still feel his partner's blood on his hands. 

He knew that thought was irrational, and quite impossible... and yet the feeling remained, blood - too much of it. The sticky wetness never left his skin, and the sharp scent filled his nose six hellish hours later. He had not changed since the shooting, and blood still covered his shirt and pants.

He noticed the bright spots of red on his clothes for the first time and studied them with a detached air. Inwardly he was amazed at how he could know what they meant and not feel anything. He knew that was wrong. He should feel something, pain, anger -_something_. 

Claire stumbled out from the room next to him, and shut the door behind her. He clenched his jaw, not wanting to think about who was behind that door.

He looked up and took in the stark white hall he was sitting in, realizing he never really noticed it before.

She blindly walked over to him and collapsed into the metal folding chair next to his own. Without warning she slumped against him and burst out crying. Darien took her into his arms without a word and just held her. He envied her ability to cry. He would have given anything to do just that, or scream, or even grieve... but nothing came, nothing yet, just emptiness.

"Darien?" she whispered after a time.

He paused and waited for her continue, but she burst into tears again. He gently grasped her chin and tilted it up so he could look her in the face. Her eyes were bloodshot, and what little remained of her mascara left dark rings under her eyes. He wished he had a tissue or something to offer her, but he had nothing.

"What is it?" he finally asked, hating himself for how calm his voice was.

She looked down at his exposed arm. "You need a shot." He marveled that she could remember just a minor thing after what had happened. 

He looked down at his wrist, to the snake tattoo partly covered by his watch, and frowned. Only three cells remained green. He wondered why he felt no pain yet. 

He nodded, and let her take his hand and lead him down the hall to her lab and his chair.

***

An hour later Darien slammed the door to his apartment and locked it in an afterthought. He strode through the room to the tiny kitchenette and forced the door open to the refrigerator. He pushed aside a half empty carton of milk to reveal the six pack of beer in the back and pulled one out. In one smooth motion he twisted off the cap and downed half the bottle in one gulp. He chucked the cap across the room and heard it hit the wall and fall out of sight.

"_Did they see you go invisible?_" He replayed the Fat Man's words over in his mind. It was the first question he asked, not how did it happen, or why - just in case he had revealed their secret toy.

"_No, Bobby pushed me down when the shooting broke out and that's when he was hit._"

The Official considered his words for a minute and nodded. "_It's good to see you're okay._"

That was it? Worrying over loosing their seventeen-million-dollar project. What about Bobby? He told the Fat Man that, and after several minutes and many choice words later, he earned himself a week unpaid vacation to recover from emotional stress.

Darien flung the beer bottle against the wall and enjoyed the sharp crash of broken glass. "I'll show you goddamned _emotional stress_!"

He realized he was at least feeling something again, but that thought didn't make him feel any better. He went for another beer.

***

It's too nice a day, Darien thought to himself. The sky was too blue, the grass too green, and the birds in the nearby trees seemed far too damn cheerful. Somewhere some perfect white picket fence, two point five kid family should be having a picnic. He knew somewhere someone was happy, but that thought didn't make him feel any better. He looked over to Claire, who stood next to him. Her eyes were dry this time, along with looking very tired. She at least had cried herself out.

"This can't be real, he can't really be... gone." she said, holding the white handkerchief to her mouth. He nodded his agreement. It seemed not that long ago that they had staged Bobby's funeral. They made it look like he was dead... but this time there was no joke, no Bobby hiding nearby to watch - he was really gone.

He looked up upon hearing his cue and stood up. He slowly made his way and stood in front of the small gathering of people. They were mostly co-workers; he saw little family. Viv was there with her husband. It surprised him to see her there.

He looked down at the tattered piece of paper in his hands and unfolded it carefully. He looked back up at the crowd, ready to say his bit, when the familiarity of the whole situation truly hit home. But this time it wasn't fake, it was real - he really is gone... Darien blinked.

He died for me.

He remembered holding Bobby as the last bit of his life drained away - the blood pooling around them both. 

There had been no warning - just the sudden pop of gunfire. He didn't realize the danger until Bobby forced him down behind some boxes.

He took in a sharp breath as he remembered looking up and seeing the first bullets hit his partner full in the chest. 

He remembered the look of surprise on Bobby's face as he looked down, touching his own chest and saw the blood for the first time. Darien pulled him down and threw his arms around him, covering them both in quicksilver.

Several minutes later after hearing the squeal of tires in the distance they reappeared. 

Bobby was still alive, barely. He could do little else but try to breathe.

He had told himself it wouldn't happen like this, Bobby wasn't going to die in his arms - _not again. Not like Kevin._

"_It's all right Kid, I'm fine..._" Bobby whispered, then coughed on his own blood. Darien tried to keep him calm, and looked around frantically to find help.

But there was no one.

He felt Bobby go limp in his arms and looked down. "_No, you can't do this!_"

Darien gripped the podium tightly with one hand, the other clasped tightly over his mouth. This was real.

The force of that reality stuck him as hard as the bullets that ended his partner and best friend's life. 

He took a deep breath, refusing to fall apart now, and looked down again at the paper in his shaking hand.

"'_Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature._' This was Robert Hobbes silent motto for life. He lived each moment to the fullest, serving with everything he had. His life touched many, and showed the face of crime there is no place to hide. He was my partner - my friend. In the end, he gave all he had, just as he lived his life. He will be missed."

He crammed the paper into his pocket and blindly stumbled off into the crowd. He remembered little else that happened that afternoon except finally, grieving in Claire's arms.

Fin


End file.
